


The Migraine Club

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Honoria and Max meet after Korea and bond over a shared ailment.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

_ Uh oh _ . 

Transparent white-grey squiggles were working their way down the dark wooden sides of the library carrel, like droplets racing down a window in the rain. Corporal Maxwell Q. Klinger knew what that meant. Moving as little as possible (jerky motions only fed into it) he fumbled for his purse… which was bare of migraine meds. 

_ Stupid.  _

It had been a long time since he’d made such a rookie mistake. From the aura to nausea to pain so bad it made him writhe was a twelve minute trip. There was absolutely no way that he could stand, return his materials, traverse the library, and walk home. He was wobbly, weakly stuck. Cold sweat formed on his shoulder blades and above his lips. He braced, closed his eyes, almost wished himself back to the front so that Hawk could give him an injection.

But he was home and alone and probably going to cry in a library carrel… 

“A-are you okay?” a beautiful voice asked near his ear. 

Even in pain, Klinger was polite and he hated to be a burden. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Thanks. Just a headache.”

“Migraine f-from the looks of i-it,” she corrected. “Bad one.” 

He gave a tiny nod; more than that and he would have thrown up on her shoes - and God were they perfect shoes: bluebell suede with cream ribbons that reminded him of the white chocolate curls that garnished fancy desserts. 

“Come with m-me.” 

Hooking an arm with his and somehow efficiently gathering his things into his satchel, she slowly steered him to a corner of the library he had never explored. They rode up a freight elevator (he barely avoided sinking into the corner), shoved through a pair of swinging doors with porthole windows, and entered a small, dark study with velvet upholstery and furnishings in dark wood. It was cool, dim, and dusty. Settling him on a couch, his rescuer opened her purse and dispensed a pill he recognized; he gratefully took it onto his tongue like a communion wafer, letting it dissolve. 

“T-think you t-took it fast enough to k-keep from throwing up?”

He reclined, eyes closed, kitten weak. “50-50. And bless you, library angel. Really.”

She laughed, a sound so musical, he thought, that it ought to have played when jewelry boxes opened or flowers bloomed. It refreshed him like the scent of sun-warmed, sugared lemons. “My p-pleasure, f-fellow sufferer. I’m just g-glad you didn’t f-fall out of your c-chair.”

“Me too. I swear I have manners and I’ll shake your hand when I can walk again, ma’am, but my name’s Maxwell Klinger and it is not just nice to meet you - it’s saving my life.” 

“Honoria Winchester.”

He cracked one eye. “There’s a Winchester wing in here, isn’t there?”

“Yep. One of d-daddy’s many ph-phi-philanthropic endeavors. This room is supposedly a r-replica of his g-grandfather’s study in En-England. U-ugly as sin, isn’t it?”

It was. “I’m just glad it’s dark.” 

She patted his arm. “I h-have some hunting to do yet in the s-stacks. I’ll check on you in f-forty-five minutes or so. If y-you have to throw up, do try to do so on the  _ ugliest _ things.” 

He was still smiling as she left. 

That was how The Migraine Club was born. 


	2. Chapter 2

Throughout the week they met in the library. He learned that Miss Winchester (he  _ did _ have manners just as he’d said) did research for a selective, glossy fashion journal. She learned that he was taking classes on the GI bill, hoping to become a designer. 

After several weeks, they added lunches and dinners to the time they spent studying and comparing remedies. On a day when Honoria didn’t appear, Klinger had a candy basket of peppermints and sea taffy sent to her.

“New beau?” Her brother asked archly, delivering it. 

_ Perhaps.  _ “Ch-Charles you’re such a cad. Can y-you not see that I am on my d-death bed?” Wincing at the sound of cellophane, she popped a peppermint into her mouth. 

He took her hand, feeling for pressure points to help ease the headache. “Who is he, Honey-vine?” 

“N-no one y-you will find in the society pages. He’s a s-student.” She massaged a throbbing spot on her forehead. “As well as a fellow su-sufferer.”

“And that was enough for you to adopt him?”

“You’ll see when y-you meet him, Ch-Charles. Adopt is quite correct. He is… kittenish. A-adorable. S-served in K-korea, you know. At a MASH u-unit, same as you.” 

“Meet him? So this is, indeed, something more than a dalliance?”

“Yes, you insufferable id-idiot. It’s a f-friendship. You should h-have one sometime.” 

“And you are quite sure that his eagerness to be friends is not, ah, predicated on, ah,”

She made her lilac eyes stunningly wide. “Daddy? Is that  _ you _ !?” 

Charles got the point. Nonetheless, he said, “Monied persons ought to be cautious. You are very young.”

“Ch-Charles, you’re th-thirty-six. Hardly t-time to assume the m-mantle of revered elder. We go to the l-library together for h-heaven’s sake. And to eat ice cream. And if the words ‘w-who pays’ drop from your lips, I s-swear I will  _ bite  _ you.” 

He kept quiet  _ then _ , but when Maxwell was laid up in bed in his turn, Charles offered to play messenger. Honoria allowed it, but not before digging her nails into his arm. “If y-you scare, hurt or t-threaten my pretty n-new friend out of s-some outdated, upper-c-class definition of ch-chivalry, Charles, I will kick you out.” 

That was when he knew she was in love with this man. 

And he wouldn’t be good enough for her. They never were. Still, he took the care package she had arranged (jealous; he knew how good she was at such things) and swore to be on his best behavior. And if he chose to wear his army dress jacket as a subtle attempt at intimidation, well, who would know? 

Living with a woman who suffered severe migraines, Charles knew better than to ring the bell or call, but his soft knock was answered with, “It’s open, Nori.”

She didn’t have keys then - that was good.  _ Nori though? How prosaic _ . “It is, ah, not Honoria. A relative, though.”

His host cracked one dark eye. “Is she okay?” 

“Of course. Work whisked her off to London.”

“She hates London.” He tried to sit up, winced. “I keep meeting people when I’m in no shape to shake hands. Hiya, Major.”

This reference to rank caught Charles quite off guard until he remembered the jacket. “You look positively wretched.” 

“Sounds right. You’re Charles, huh?”

It had never occurred to the physician that Honoria would have spoken of him to this waif of hers. “Yes. Dr. Charles Emerson Winchester III.” 

“Maxwell Klinger. Nice to meet you. Doctor, huh? Can you write me a prescription that’ll let me slip away quietly?” 

_ How can you hurt like that  _ \- he could practically feel the pain rising from that slender frame-  _ and joke _ ? “My ethics wouldn’t allow it. I assume you’ve run through the conventional remedies?” 

“Yeah. Coupla folk ones my mom sent, too - just in case, you know? It’s these autumn storms. They have me halfway excited for snow. This place is expensive to heat, but better cold than hurting.” 

Charles surprised himself by asking, “May I try something?” 

“Sure. Please.” 

He manipulated the man’s hand, laying it flat, then felt for the pressure point there. He added those at the temple next, and the ear. Max didn’t just allow him - he went limp.  _ Kittenish _ , Honoria had called the man. It fit.  _ A ragdoll kitten at that.  _ And Charles had to stop himself from thinking about all of the other pressure points he knew.  _ I could touch you all over _ came a particularly mad thought, and Charles drew back. 

“Thanks, Major.” Klinger looked a little more alert, a little less agonized. 

To distract himself from what was obviously a bout of temporary - if fierce - insanity, Charles passed over Honoria’s gift. Klinger rummaged and all but cooed over his treasures, a happy magpie, and knowing the whole lot hadn’t cost ten dollars, Charles was forced to rethink his worries about money, at least. 

“Honoria is sending you books?” he asked, holding up a well-loved volume. 

Klinger gave him a wide-eyed look. “Yeah. Is that okay?”

_ Huh _ . Charles had expected a certain amount of cockiness from Honey’s suitor, or maybe a misplaced attempt at male bonding. What Max gave him, strangely, was a sense that he  _ respected _ him. Was it his rank? His age? If Max was Honey’s age, then there was at least a decade between them. Was it his profession? Max had sounded impressed when he’d said “doctor,” - but that was a common enough response. 

The silence had stretched a few seconds too long and Max pulled himself upright, a cover around his thin shoulders. “You don’t want me to be friends with her, huh?” 

Charles wondered at being read so well and easily. “Honoria is grown and makes her own choices - and if I came between the two of you, she would not forgive me.” 

Klinger smiled ruefully. “That’s not a ‘no,’ Major.” 

“She is my little sister. Surely you can forgive a tendency to be overprotective?” 

“I guess.” He liked the way this Major talked, even if he wasn’t precisely welcoming. But then, maybe that made a certain amount of sense. Klinger could read the cut and cost of his clothes.  _ Outta my league for sure _ . But so was Nori - and she never made him feel inferior, or even uneducated - which he was. She just helped. If he was good enough for Nori, maybe he could prove to her brother that he wasn’t so bad? “If she was here, I’d make tea. Want some?”

“You do not look like you can stand - let alone walk to the stove. I will do it.” 

“You don’t know where anything is,” Klinger protested. 

“Feel free to direct me.” 

“A Corporal ordering around a Major? Not real proper, sir.” 

But Charles  _ did  _ permit it - and Max admired how careful he was not to make too much noise. He didn’t clank the cutlery and removed the kettle before it could scream. As they waited for the tea to steep, Charles offered to read to the man who loved his sister and who had been brought low by pain. 


	3. Chapter 3

“So?”

Klinger had never laid on anything as nice as Honoria’s bed in his life. He lounged and lolled to enjoy the fabric and gave a low, drawn-out moan. 

And he  _ didn’t _ have a headache. 

“That was  _ mean _ , Nori.” 

“Not your t-type then?”

“Please.”  _ That voice, that voice _ . He had tried to memorize the lilt and power of it, tried to imagine it saying the things he wanted to hear. 

“I’m n-not the one you n-need to beg, beautiful.” 

Klinger moaned again. Outside the closed door, Charles tried to remember where his service weapon was exactly. Could you bury a man in a koi pond? Would the koi dispose of him? He was such a little thing. 

Honoria knew that Charles could hear. She knew that having a “gentleman caller” in her room with the door closed was driving him crazy. She enjoyed Klinger for himself, but scandalizing Charles was a  _ treat.  _

Standing quite soundlessly, she flung open the door to go get snacks. “Why Ch-Charles, darling, you sh-should have knocked.” She smirked; they both knew he was caught. Even so, he couldn’t help the way he looked her over - as if for damages. 

She watched him searching for an excuse and then dragged him with her. “Are y-you really  _ s-spying _ on me!?” she demanded in the kitchen. (She wasn’t really upset; she also wasn’t willing to surrender the moral high ground that she so rarely held when it came to Charles. Righteous indignation usually cowed him). “Charles, I am t-twenty-five years old!” 

“Twenty-four. And I am sorry, Honoria, but that man,” 

“Maxwell.”

“Does not belong in your bed!” 

“To be f-fair, he is  _ on _ it r-rather than in it, f-first of all. Secondly, he b-belongs wherever I want him that he will w-willingly go, and t-third you are b-being an elitist  _ idiot _ . F-fortunately, I have a-already thought of a w-way you can m-make it up.”

“Oh, happy day.”

She gave him a look that contained threats about shovels and digging oneself in deeper. “You, my b-beloved brother are going to g-get a chance to s-see just how w-wonderful Maxwell is, b-because you going to treat him. For free.” 

“I told you he would take advantage, Honoria,” 

She stepped on his toes. Hard. “He has no idea. But I know there are r-research trials going on at Mercy for m-migraines. Find out w-what it is they’re trying and help him.” 

“That is the most unethical thing I have ever heard.” 

“He is my f-friend and he’s in p-pain. Fix it,  _ Dr.  _ Winchester.” 

“I can recommend someone.”

“And?”

“Pay for it.”

“And?” 

“Trust you to mind your own affairs.”

She laughed. “You are still a t-terrible liar. Two out of t-three is the b-best I can hope for and I know it.” But she did kiss his cheek. “You are a g-good brother, Ch-Charles, spy or not.” 

“Since I have won back a measure of your affection, may I ask a question?”

“Y-you just did, but y-yes.”

“You suffer these headaches, too. Why are  _ you _ not seeking treatment for yourself?”

“I d-do not need to w-work. M-maxwell works in g-great pain and is t-terrified of l-losing his job.” 

It moved him. This Maxwell likely had a man’s pride, too. He would not have asked. “Alright, Honey-vine. I will see to it.” 

“I s-see you w-want to have the l-last word, Charles. Are you g-going to tell me to leave my door open?” 

“No.” (Though he wanted to; that and to tell her to buy kinder shoes). “I merely wish to say that part of being a good brother - which you conceded I am capable of being at times - is wanting to protect you.” 

“Charles, I am at least f-five inches ta-taller than he is. I am p-perfectly safe.” But she kissed him anyway. “Thank you, Ch-Charles, for looking after me.” 

It cheered him even as he realized that his roster of individuals to look after had just inexplicably increased by one. 


	4. Chapter 4

Charles kept his word to his sister and saw Maxwell Klinger placed under the care of Stanley Robbins, a neurologist Pierce recommended from his intern days. The autumn storms raged on, ripping the leaves from the trees and leaving everything bleak and barren. Honoria traveled to Milan for a winter wedding preview for work and Charles felt low and bored without her. 

When she called, he brightened… at least until he heard her tone. “My dear, whatever is the matter?” 

“Ch-Charles, you’re g-going to say I’m b-being a s-silly little girl, but will y-you please go c-check on Max?” 

“You are calling me from Italy about your beau? A spring wedding, then?” 

She made an impatient noise at this. 

“Your household will doubtless prove an interesting one. With the two of you both suffering headaches, I do hope you can hire a devoted staff!” 

Much as she appreciated this show of lightheartedness, Honoria was worried. “Ch-Charles…” 

“What has you upset, Honoria?”

“It’s been f-four days. I can’t reach him. H-he always tells me g-goodbye before t-these trips. I simply c-cannot shake the f-feeling that something is not right.” 

She didn’t have to remind her devoted brother that she had experienced similar feelings about him in the past (and he for her) and they had proven quite correct. He felt a twinge of jealousy that Maxwell was now somehow tangled in their bond, but he promised to look in on him and report back in the morning. In the back of his mind, he began to have his own premonition. Was this young man  _ avoiding  _ his sister? Giving her the brush off? It wasn’t to be borne. 

Dressing hastily and donning shoes and a coat that were tolerant of rain, he made his way to Maxwell’s stoop. The prevalence of storms meant the young man might be in pain, so he knocked softly - once and again. 

“Major? What are you doing here?” 

The door was barely cracked and Max stood in shadow, but Charles was a doctor. He knew what pain did to one’s carriage. “Honoria is concerned about you. It appears she has reason.”

Klinger tried to use the door as something of a shield, but long fingers shot out to grasp his wrist. What Charles saw then was terrible, indeed, and so far outside of the realm of anything he had expected to encounter this night that he gaped and almost got the door very much slammed in his slack-jawed face. 

Maxwell wasn’t leaving his sister. 

Maxwell was  _ terrified _ . 

Having won the struggle over the door (he had seven inches of height and more weight than he cared to contemplate on the slender Corporal) Charles stared at him in the entryway. One of his dark eyes was blackened. There were marks high on his neck that might have been made by fingernails. That he was dressed in feminine garb didn’t even phase the physician, though he registered the tailored cut, the celebration shades. Pain was his province and he saw it in Klinger’s eyes, in the way he held his head. 

“What  _ happened _ to you?” 

Max flinched at the sound of his voice and took a step back, looked as though he wanted to put something between them. “Major, please…” 

Charles reached out but Klinger darted out from under the touch, didn’t let it land. 

“Please go, sir. Be an officer and a gentleman like I know you are and just get out of here. I’ll be patched up by the time Nori gets back. She doesn’t hafta know.” 

“Maxwell, besides being an officer and a gentleman, I am a  _ doctor.  _ I cannot leave you like this and uphold my oath.” 

“I’ve had enough of doctors for awhile, sir. Please?” 

His eyes had not been deceived then, not a trick of the light. “You said you were a Corporal, correct?”

“Yes.” Confusion shown in his eyes; it dimmed the fear a bit, for which Charles was grateful. “But what I really was was drafted. I did everything I could to be 4F - or section eight.” Then he bit his lip, winced, and looked  _ worse  _ . “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why ever not?”

“You’re an officer and a veteran. In my experience, they don’t much care for cowards or shirkers… or men in dresses.”

Charles had little bedside manner on his best day, but Honoria had asked him to care for this man. He offered a smile - and a piece of himself. “Corporal, I was an unwilling draftee, too, though I lack the figure,” he gestured to himself and feigned despair, “to carry off any ensemble as fine as that.”

Klinger smiled. “It’s definitely not the right color, sir.”

“Neither is that band of bruises at your wrist.”

Klinger shivered. “I’ve been beat up before, I can take care of it.”

“And what will you tell Honoria? She is quite frantic.”

“Out of money to pay the phone bill?”

“Is it that hand to mouth around here?”

“Sometimes,” he mumbled, looking down, ashamed in front of this wealthy, cultured man. “I’ll apologize to Nori, promise.”

“I will deal with Honoria. I have years of practice if, admittedly, little success. In return, you will tell me what you require of me in order that I may treat you.” 

Klinger shook his head. 

“Maxwell, the link we share is my charming sister. Would you call her stubborn?”

“Not to you.” 

“She is the younger Winchester, Corporal. I assure you that she has nothing on me when it comes to that particular trait, so do be a good girl and find me something I can swear on so that you will trust me.” 

A litany of curse words ran through his head - some in Arabic, some in downtown Toledo… all of which trailed off to an internal (and thankfully inaudible) whimper. He could take a punch alright. But Charles using feminine address? For  _ him _ ?  _ On  _ him? 

_ Nope. No. No. No. No. No.  _

_ It’s time for you to go, Major. I was feeling rough before you got here - I don’t wanna try for dizzy _ . 

“Look, Major, sir, I’m nothing to you. I’m not your problem. Just go home and forget about this, okay?” 

Charles did not. Instead, he set about making tea. Klinger gaped at him. Charles ignored him, but made a note to buy the man a better kettle; the one in use was meant for heating syrup and its wood-encased handle was unstable at best. 

“There is no reason for it that I can find,” Winchester said as he arranged the kitchen implements. “But tea is a fine thing for a crisis. Maybe it is the warmth. Perhaps it is that waiting for it to cool forces us to slow down.”

“I’m not having a crisis,” Klinger grumbled, wanting, absurdly, to snatch the sugar tongs away from those huge hands. 

“What is this creature?” Charles indicated a small glass container with a pointed nose and wide ears. It was half-filled with brown sugar. 

“The sugar mouse.” Klinger looked down, shy again. “He was my aunt’s. When I was a kid, I joked with her about giving him to me. Then she got sick.”

“I am sorry, Max.” 

“It’s okay. She sent him while she was still here. It was real nice she remembered.” 

Winchester pushed a tea cup toward him - an offering. “If you can tell me about him, you can tell me what happened.” 

“I really don’t want to.” 

“I really do not care.” 

“It’ll upset you, sir.” 

“Oh? I am a  _ thoracic surgeon _ , Maxwell. I have held hearts - beating and stilled - in my hands. My constitution is, I assure you, not delicate.”

He saw the younger man give in. “Alright. But I’m shutting my eyes. And you can’t yell at me.” 

Charles could imagine no reason he would want to  _ yell  _ at Klinger… but he had been treated harshly in the past, himself; it was an easy promise to give. He installed Maxwell in his bed (he really did squeeze his eyes shut, too) before gathering the things he needed to tend him. He hoped he would need nothing else; he hadn’t realized he had been paying a house call and so was ill-equipped. 

He began with the man’s neck, dabbing mercurochrome into cuts before covering them with gauze. Klinger’s breath sped until it whistled as Charles unbuttoned his dress with his free hand. Klinger pushed his hands away. 

“Start talking, Corporal.” 

When Max remained mute, he gentled his tone. “I can read them, you know. Those marks.”

“Then what do you need me to say anything for?”

“You said it was not the first time.”

“You asking what I did to deserve it?” 

“Of course not! I merely wish to ascertain that you are quite safe.” 

_ So that Nori stays safe. I get that.  _ “Fine now.” But he was lying. This time… he hadn’t realized what was happening. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t dressed like this. I know where it’s safe.” 

“The library?” he guessed. 

“Yeah. Bet you’re less worried about me seeing your sister now, anyway.” He tried for a grin and didn’t entirely succeed. “That’s a silver lining, huh?”

“Perhaps. Not one for which I wished to exchange your black eye, however. Though I do now confess a curiosity: what were you wearing when the two of you met?”

“I’ll show you sometime. It was one I made.” 

“Made?” 

“I design things.”

“The outfits Honoria has been wearing? I like them. What? Why the expression?” 

“If you say that, if you mean it, I can’t fight you.” 

“Good! Maxwell, you may take an entire day of my life to show me designs if you wish it. Have Honoria model them. But tonight, let me help.” 

“It was Dr. Robinson, sir.”

Lighting flashed in his eyes. “Maxwell?”

“You said you wouldn’t yell!” 

He wasn’t yelling - but Klinger could feel the rage in him. 

_ It’ll upset you, sir.  _

Charles had taken this to mean: you will see my injuries and get upset. What Klinger had actually been trying to do was spare him the knowledge that he had essentially delivered him into the hands of a… he couldn’t think it, prayed it hadn’t gone that far. 

No wonder Max had looked so very frightened. 

“What did he do?” 

Maxwell told him. He told about the injection that had made it hard to move. 

_ Hard but not impossible. You wanted some fight left in him, you white-coated monster.  _

He told about the restraints. Charles excused himself to throw up. On his return, he learned that lust had made the other physician careless, which had permitted Max’s escape.

_ My fault.  _

Klinger saw the agony in him and, perversely enough, tried to comfort  _ him _ . “It’s okay, Major. I’ve had worse. Korea, right?”

Charles had never thought so low class an endearment in his life, but it popped into his head.  _ Baby no.  _ “How much worse is worse?”

“You don’t wanna get into all that.” 

“Max I cannot treat you if I do not know your medical history.”

“You’re gonna treat me?” 

“For your headaches, yes. For free. It is the least I can do.”

“Oh, well… do you know baseball at all?”

“I know that it exists.” 

“You know guys use it to say how far you can, uh, go?”

“Yes. We are dealing in metaphor?”

“Yes. Please?”

“Alright.”

“Back there… It was… third base? I guess? But I didn’t sign up to play. A friend helped me out.” 

“You should have been sent home.”

“I said that a lot. It’s ok, Major.”

“Maxwell, if someone had done the same to Honoria, would you think she was okay?”

The younger man looked stricken. “I think men should lay down on puddles so she can step on them. And they should say thank you about it!” 

This so closely echoed Charles’ own beliefs that he gaped. “So do I,” he practically whispered. “It was not  _ okay _ , Max. And Robinson? What base did he reach?” 

_ If you say home, I will not survive it _

“Not that far.”

_ But he would have _ . “I am so very sorry.” Then he thought something much worse and grabbed for his hands. “Maxwell… you know I have had reservations about your friendship with Honoria. Surely you know I would never…”

It was the kind of thing his father would have done. 

Had some part of him  _ known _ ? 

“Have me attacked?” Maxwell scoffed. “What is this? A dime store spy novel?” 

“I have seen you together, heard her on the phone with you.” He grew wistful. “You make her much happier than me. My worries were groundless from the first. And I swear I was only trying to help you.” 

“You’re a good guy, Major. Nori loves you so you have to be. You couldn’t have known.”

But he could fix it. 

That night, he patched Max up. Then he lied through his teeth to his beloved baby sister, claimed Max had responded badly to the trial regimen and had been sick. Then he did something so completely out of character that he had to get drunk afterward to remove the taste from his mouth. 

“Father? I need your help.” 

He explained what needed to occur. What  _ must  _ occur. Even if it bound him, sin to sinew, to an evil man. 

“Professional rivalry, Charles?” His father sounded almost proud. 

_ No, father dear. I spent the night putting stitches in a pretty  _ **_male_ ** _ Corporal in a dress and now I am called to avenge his darling form.  _ “Something like. It must be the license. He cannot simply move and practice in another state.” 

His father assured him it would be done. 


	5. Chapter 5

Honoria returned and their friendship picked up without a hitch. If she noticed that a nearby doctor and his sister were ruined, the story playing out in the papers, she gave no sign. What she  _ did  _ notice was that her brother was now looking after her friend and that the pair had developed an interesting, bantering, bickering back and forth that seemed to please them both. Charles was (and it half broke her heart to see it) apparently a little taken aback that anyone could like him for himself! 

One late spring night after Max had gone, she kissed her brother’s cheek. “It’s good for you to have s-someone to l-look after. All of your pa-patients- they’re brought to you, you f-f-fix them, they go home. You need the co-connection, Charles.”

“Is that what you were thinking that day in the library?” 

“No. Max is dear to me all by himself. But now I’m a-almost glad of his h-headaches. Next time he’s s-stuck in bed, I shall send you.”  _ To join him _ she added in her mind. 

Still wracked by guilt at what Max had undergone, Charles agreed to do all he could. 

*** 

It was that agreement that saw him back at Max’s apartment a few months later when a series of cluster headaches left him truly ill. Charles had tried every remedy he knew with little success. The drug cocktail he had prescribed ought to have worked. Was its failure the result of a hormonal imbalance? Were sinus issues exacerbating everything? Stress? Whatever the reason, he found his new-won friend sprawled beside the phone he had used to call him, adorable and pitiful in a tiered dress the color of a luna moth in the rain. 

“Your hands are like ice,” Charles informed him. “I take it the medication is not working?”

“Oh, it’s working some, Major. If it wasn’t, I think I’d be dead.” 

“No gallow’s humor, please. You are much too pretty for it. Let us get you up and warm.” 

Klinger resisted this. “I can’t get my clothes off to get in the shower, Major, and we haven’t been friends long enough for me to let you do it.”

Charles didn’t remind him of how much of his clothing he’d had to push aside to treat him after Robinson’s assault (Robinson who, Charles was pretty sure, would soon be in federal prison for tax fraud). “I am a doctor, Maxwell. I am good at dignity.” 

“I’m a guy in a dress. I’m not.” 

Charles ignored this and placed one hand under his stomach, the other at the back of his neck. “You weigh nothing, Maxwell.”

“You’ve done this for Nori?” 

“Quite. In a slip or a robe of course. She squalls like a scalded cat and calls me horrible names.” 

“I’ll bet.” 

He didn’t stand in the shower - just slid to his knees and pressed them together, hands gripping the tops of his arms. Charles stayed on the other side of the tub, hand at his back, and fought off a sudden mad desire to kneel behind him and kiss his neck. “I must cease joking about your desert heritage, Max. This water is very hot.”

“You can go. I probably won’t fall. If I do it’s a short drop, too.”

“I will not let you fall. Do you realize that your hair is so thick that it appears quite blue under the spray?” 

Max chuckled. “It’s why I don’t wear aquamarine.” But he froze when Charles touched the dark strands, massaging a menthol-eucalyptus-mint shampoo into his hair. 

The physician knew he shouldn’t be doing this (thoracic surgeons did not bathe their patients!), but it would have hurt to look on that wet darkness without touching it. That Max moved under his touch… that was surely the migraine, no? An attempt to direct pressure to those places that hurt? But Charles couldn’t help but think of cats and how their movements were often less about gaining affection and more about claiming the kind hand outstretched.  _ I could be yours, Maxwell,  _ he thought,  _ if you could ever want me _ . And if the thought was completely and totally mad… well… he could have the  _ tending  _ of the young man, anyway. It was better than nothing. 

He spent the evening doing just that, seeing him to bed, wiping cold cream across his eyes and menthol at his temples to combat the pain living behind them, rubbing his neck. He stayed until Max slept, updated his notes, and went to bed in a daze of unexpected desire. 

***

“Please st-st-stop. Once more. Ch-Charles  _ washed your h-hair _ !? That’s huge!! Did you get the f-feeling he w-wanted to keep going? Maybe do y-your chest?”

“ _ Nori _ !”

“What!? You have s-single-handedly p-proven the man isn’t a robot. I am delighted, not to m-mention that I will feel s-significantly less concern about l-letting him out when it rains. Rust, you k-know. But, seriously, Max, if you p-pursue this, and I so hope you w-will, the man probably  _ is  _ r-rusty. Be easy with him.” 

“I won’t hurt him. Promise.” 

She’d known as much; her grin lit up the room as she replaced the phone.


	6. Chapter 6

Knowing Max’s feelings, Honoria set out to help set things in motion - mostly by absenting herself from the scene. It was easy enough to have a friend (posing as an editor) call her so that she could dash out the door, leaving Charles to find a companion for the symphony. He did whine about it, of course. 

“I hate the symphony alone.”

“Take Max. I d-doubt he’s b-been much.”

He thought about it; Max was, hands down, prettier than anyone he’d ever asked… and he certainly had the clothing for it. If he wore a hat with a veil, he could dress as feminine as he liked, too. 

He called the lovely creature to pitch the idea. 

“You’re something else, Major. You fix me up and take me out - how do I live up to that?”

“You did so ages ago by making Honoria happy. You will come with me, then?”

“You’ll tell me what to do? I don’t want to embarrass you.” 

“Mostly what we shall do is sit and listen, but yes, if you wish it. You have been Honey’s companion for fashion shows - I’ve no doubt ‘tall that you can help me turn heads in this.” 

Max was giddy when he hung up - and if it did feel like dressing for a date - well, there was no harm in a little make believe! 

***

That evening, even the weather seemed to conspire to make everything beautiful; a purely dandelion haze formed around the darkening trees and buildings - a gold band wrapped around the horizon. 

Max stepped into the surprisingly cool air at his knock and Charles couldn’t help but think that the gold shimmer seemed made to act as a backdrop to his outfit. He did worry about the absence of a coat. Max probably felt he didn’t have one fine enough. The surgeon made a mental note to secure an opera cape; the velvet lining of such a thing would please his touch-addicted friend to no end. 

Max allowed him to open doors and lead him, bright eyes laughing behind his veil. 

“What is so very amusing, my dear?” 

“Just thinking about how angry you used to get when I called Nori. Didn’t see things playing out like this.” 

Charles did not know how to say that he liked being the younger man’s friend, especially not tonight when he looked - and  _ felt _ \- so good on his arm. He settled for clasping his hand, once, hoping his touch might speak for him. When the lights went down, Max recaptured his hand and drew it to rest, tangled in his, on his thigh. 

Charles didn’t hear a single note of the symphony that night. 

At the door to the building that housed Klinger’s modest little apartment, they paused and Max admitted, “I wanted to tell you all night, but I don’t know if it’s the right thing — you should let yourself dress up more. You’re really handsome, Charles.” 

No one ever said such things to him. He stared, trying to come up with some joke to protect himself, something about Max designing clothes for him, perhaps? - but then Max went up on his toes in pretty shoes and touched his lips to his blushing cheek. “Thanks for taking me and letting me be myself.” 

Charles had no answer to this. He watched the younger man climb the steps and disappear. He stayed there, watching, a hand to his cheek, for a very long time. 


	7. Chapter 7

At home, he called Honoria. 

“Help.” 

“The tr-traditional greeting is ‘hello,’ Ch-Charles.” 

“Might we circle back? I think… I believe I am mired in something of an ethical dilemma. I further believe it is your fault. So, I say again:  _ help _ .” 

“Remind me, if you w-would, dear, just w-when, precisely, did you excise the w-word ‘please,’ from your impressive v-vocabulary?”

He sighed. “Please?” 

“Better. Now, what h-happened? Maxwell would n-not have embarrassed you, s-surely?” 

“No.”  _ But he kissed me. Gratitude was the impetus, supposedly, but he  _ **_trembled_ ** _. He called me handsome and he trembled and I was too dumbfounded to take him in my arms.  _

“Darling… I am s-so very happy for you! N-now hang up w-with me and call  _ him _ .”

“How did you construct an entire romance novel from the word ‘no?’” 

“I know you, b-brother mine.”

Realization struck. “You know Maxwell, too.”

“Quite w-well. I am l-laughing at you, you know. For t-taking so long to realize that he w-was no t-threat to me.”

“In my defense, he was dressed in male attire when we met.”

“If h-he had not b-been, I imagine h-he would have fainted. He c-cares about your o-opinion, you know.”

He did know - had noted it that day he’d gone to drop off her care package. “I assume that is the most you will give me?”

“Yes.  _ Call him _ .”

He did. Max answered on the first ring. “You’re scared, aren’t you?” was the first thing he said. 

“Yes.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Charles could hear that he was smiling; his lips echoed the gesture. “I… I do not know.”

“I’ll wait - okay? We don’t have to talk about it ‘til you want.”

A terrible truth rose to his tongue. “I do not know if I can change, Maxwell.”

Max matched his honesty. “I don’t know if I can live without you, Major, so try.”

***

Charles was not sure how to proceed. Honoria would not empty out the jewel box of her best friend’s thoughts - not even for the brother she loved - and Charles was woefully out of practice when it came to courting. Before he had made up his mind what to do, Max came to him with a vinyl he had scrimped to afford and an apology. 

“I’m real sorry. I know somebody like you… high class doctor… I was stupid to think…”

“I feel it too, Max. I did the first time I saw you.” 

They curled up together, new record playing. 

“What happens now, Charles?” 

“I suppose, Max, that, having trusted me to battle your pain, you consider extending me the right to give you pleasure.” 

“I don’t want to mess up things with Nori, though, Major.” 

Charles kissed him - deep, hard. “Do you realize, my darling, that there are few things that could win my love as effectively as the grand way you care for Honoria?” 

“She’s my best friend. My best gal friend now, I guess. I hope?” 

“You wish to move me to the head of the list?” 

“Yes. Is that okay?” 

“I will work to deserve it, Max.”

He shivered. “You did a long time ago, Charles.”

That night, it was enough to lay twined together, touching, trading secrets in soft voices. Each man gently altered how he said the other’s name. Charles mastered sounding possessive easily - he was a Winchester - but Max thrilled to hear him sound plenty needy, too. For his part, the former Corporal mostly sounded awed and affectionate, but he didn’t lose his ability to tease the other man.

“You are going to be like Honoria,” Charles reflected, nuzzling into his hair. “And make my life fun whether I want it to be or not.”

It was a very accurate prediction. 

“You’re going to keep mine free of pain,” Klinger returned. “Seems like a fair trade, huh?”

It was that - and it made for a very happy life. 

Thereafter, their club had three members as Charles took excellent care of both his sister and the love of his life. He never entirely defeated the headaches that plagued them, but he rarely caused them, either. Only Maxwell and Honoria ever knew it, but he did his best doctoring at home, bringing comfort and joy to the two headache sufferers he took under his care. 

End! 


End file.
